


After It Was Over - Part One

by arcadianpetriedish



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s02e13 Irresistible, Protectiveness, Rage, Tumblr Prompt, Violent Thoughts, things you said prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadianpetriedish/pseuds/arcadianpetriedish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is running through Mulder's head as Scully breaks down after being saved from Donnie Pfaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After It Was Over - Part One

  “I’m fine, Mulder,” Scully lied, the last syllable of his name barely a whisper.  She intensely stared at his shoes, grasping at the final sliver of composure she possessed. 

_Breathe in, exhale.  Repeat._

  Scully was a jumble of raw nerve endings, aftershocks, and chattering teeth.  She was strong, capable, and the last thing she wanted was for Mulder to feel like he needed to protect her.  Right now, though, in this moment, she was grateful for his closeness.  Her unshakeable confidence was annihilated the moment the closet door opened and she saw the knife in Donnie Pfaster’s hand.  She’d felt like a scared little girl in grownup clothes, and that might be the scariest thing of all.

  Mulder reached out and carefully tipped up her scratched and bloodied chin.  She was skittish, her eyes wild, seeing everything and nothing through a reddish-black haze.  Scully’s eyes connected with Mulder’s for only a millisecond, but it was enough to snap her back to reality.  Shattered, she leaned forward and pressed her rapidly crumpling face into his coat to muffle the tears she could no longer suppress.   He wrapped his arms around her as she whimpered against his chest, noticing that she’d watched and waited until the cops hauled away the abomination dressed as a man before finally allowing herself to let go.

_Breathe in, exhale.  Repeat._

  Her next breath came in the form of a sharp, hitching sob, as she was consumed by the enormity of the terror she’d just barely survived.  She openly wept against him, the sound piercing Mulder’s heart like daggers as he moved to hold her tighter, rubbing her back and placing a delicate kiss on the top of her head.  She suddenly clambered to grasp onto him as tightly as she could; she was sliding over the edge and he was her rope, her anchor.  The only thing that kept her from falling.

  Scully’s tears were a long time coming.  This was different from the other close calls she’d experienced since she’d accepted the assignment that put her in the FBI’s basement and exposed her to a world of danger she never could have imagined.  Her encounter with Donnie Pfaster destroyed a vital part of her innocence.  This evil knew her name and stared her dead in the eyes as he prepared to defile her, kill her, and ruin what remained.

  Mulder’s emotions were surging, alternating between guilt, anger, and rage.  He knew Scully was having a hard time with the case, and that sometimes, for whatever reason, a case can get stuck under the skin.  She should’ve just gone home.  But instead, back she came, and that bastard almost ended her.  Had he been just a few seconds later…  He didn’t want to think about that.

  He wanted to absolve Scully of her pain.  At the same time, something buried deep in the darker edges of Mulder’s psyche snapped to attention.  Donne Pfaster was en route to prison, where he would likely rot for the rest of his miserable days.  Mulder didn’t think that was enough.

  He usually brushed away the violent imagery that sometimes sprouted in his head uninvited, writing it off as a product of too many hours spent in the VCU, reshaping his thoughts and motivations to match those of whatever predator he was hunting at the time.  His success came as no surprise to him; he was initially drawn to psychology like so many others who desperately sought to understand their own abnormalities.  The fits of rage he experienced after the loss of his sister never really went away; he’d just become better at masking it.  The Violent Crimes Unit was so draining for Mulder simply because it _was_ so easy for him to think like a killer.  He left when he saw how blurry that line was becoming.  He would never allow himself to become like them, those whose conscience was broken or missing entirely.  There was actually very little that would push Mulder over the edge.  As his partner trembled against him, he understood without question that not only would he die to protect her; he’d also kill anyone who tried to bring her harm.

  Scully was safely tucked under Mulder’s chin, which rested gently on the top of her head.  He continued to rub her back, rocking her and murmuring comforting words quietly against her hair.  Her eyes were closed, his vacant as his own darkness allowed his mind to visualize a vivid masterpiece of bloody vengeance.  He would corner Pfaster the way he’d done to those women – the way he did to Scully.  Mulder’s upper lip briefly twitched into a snarl at what came next.  Did he want to make him suffer, or just go for straight brutality?  Mulder saw himself unhinged, fueled by calculated rage.  He saw himself with perfect clarity, smashing Pfaster’s face into the concrete over and over, until the sonofabitch’s face was bloody pulp, and he’d finally stopped twitching.

  A somewhat predatory storm cloud traveled across Mulder’s features as he concluded that if he were ever given the opportunity, that’s exactly what he would do.  He protectively tightened his hold on Scully, crushing her against his solid chest.

  Scully’s sobs softened to cries, eventually dissolving to an occasional muffled whimper against Mulder’s coat.  That gave way to a long, slow sigh of acceptance and exhaustion as she detached herself from Mulder’s embrace.

_Breathe in, exhale.  Repeat._

  She saw the large wet spot on his coat and was suddenly self-conscious of her very public breakdown.  She absentmindedly rubbed at the tender tape marks on her wrist.

  “I’m, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small, as she gestured at his damp coat.

  Mulder looked at her incredulously and cupped her face in his hands.  Her tears had morphed her eyes to a bright, almost turquoise blue.  His were turbulent; the storm raging behind them shifted the color from green to grey and back again.  For a brief second, Scully thought they almost looked dangerous.

  “No.”  His voice was forceful.  “Do _not_ apologize.  You did nothing wrong, Scully.  I’m sorry for all of this.  I’m so glad we made it in time.”  His voice trailed off, choked.

  The determined set of his jaw and the dark intensity of his gaze gave her pause.

  “What is it, Mulder?  What are you thinking?”

  He stared at her, his expression unreadable.  His voice was low, steely, and entirely too calm.

  “I’m going to kill him.”


End file.
